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Woman Who Went to Alaska, A

<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> <h3>LIFE IN A MINING CAMP.</h3> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/da.png" width-obs="56" height-obs="150" alt="A" title="A" /></div> S the rains came to facilitate the sluicing, more men were added to the force shovelling in the creeks, and this made our work heavier. An exceedingly cranky foreigner, as head cook, presided over the big coal range in the mess-house, and we women "played second fiddle," so to speak. However, we all had enough hard work, as a midnight supper for the second force had to be prepared and regularly served, and at this we labored alternately. Strange to relate, the men at the long tables soon began to exhibit a very great partiality for the dishes prepared by the English girl and myself, to the end that the foreign fellow's black eyes snapped with anger, and he swore deeply under his breath. "He vill eat vat I gif heem. He moose eat it ven he hoongry, else he starve himsel'. I care not he no like it, he get nothing other!" the angry man would exclaim, as the untouched plates of the men were scraped into the waste box. He would then, fearing that we would cook some dish more palatable to the miners, hide the best food, or forbid us to use certain ingredients as we wished. Of the culinary stores provided there never could be a complaint. Everything that money could buy in the way of fresh meat, potatoes, onions, canned and dried fruits and vegetables, flour, corn and oatmeals, were stacked up in the greatest profusion. From canned oysters, clams and French sardines, to fine cocoa and cream, all was here found in quantities, after being hauled in a wagon behind powerful horses over the seven miles of heavy roads from Nome. By the time the goods reached camp they were almost worth their weight in gold, but one might have supposed them dirt cheap, for we, as hungry miners and cooks, were never limited. Week after week the patient animals and their driver were kept measuring the distance between the city and the claim, even though the wet tundra in low places grew sodden and boggy, and the wheels repeatedly sank to the hubs. At times more horses were attached to haul them out of some hole, or if these were not at hand, certain heavy cases were dumped off until the reeking, straining brutes had successfully extricated the load. Covered with mud and sweat, his high-topped rubber boots each weighing a number of pounds, and his stomach too empty to allow of conversation, after a long, hard day's work, the driver of this team would fling himself upon one of the benches alongside our table and say: "Yes, I'm ready to eat anything. Been caved in for two hours." This young man, as well as the night foreman, was a cousin of Mr. A., both farmer boys, honest, kind and true. No oaths fell from their lips, and no language was used which their own mothers would ever blush to hear. The second of these, the foreman, was dressed also in great rubber boots, dark blue sweater, and broad-brimmed felt hat, with a quick eye and ear for all around him, though he was a man of few words, which he weighed well before using. His hip pocket always contained a loaded revolver, and he was obliged to sleep days after being on duty nights. To eyes so unaccustomed as ours to the sight, how strange it all looked at midnight. From the big tent door which faced south and towards Nome City we could see the blue waters of Behring Sea away in the distance. Great ships lying there at anchor, lately arrived from the outside world or just about to leave, laden with treasure, at this long range looked like mere dots on the horizon. Between them and us there straggled over the beach in a westerly direction, a confused group of objects we well knew to be the famous and fast growing camp on the yellow sands. To our right, as well as our left, rolled the softly undulating hills, glowing in tender tints of purples and greys, or, if the moon hung low above our heads, there were warmer and lighter shades which were doubly entrancing. Accompanying the low moon twinkled the silver stars with their olden time coyness of expression. Little birds, not knowing when to sleep in the endless daylight, hopped among the dewy wild flowers of the tundra, calling to their mates or nestlings, twittering a song appropriate to the time and place because entirely unfamiliar. No other sound was to be heard except the picks of the miners at work in the stream. No word was spoken unless the foreman gave some order. Those sleeping in nearby tents must not be wakened, and besides the men at the shovels and picks did no loitering. There were the long sluice boxes to be filled with what was once the creek bed, from which the water was now turned in another direction to await the morning's cleanup of gold. At that time the water would be conducted into the long boxes to wash away the dirt and gravel, leaving the heavier gold in the bottom. Either Mr. A. or his brother, with the foreman, attended to cleaning up the gold. When all the dirt and gravel, or rock, had been washed out of the sluices, a whisk broom was used to brush the gold into a corner of the box, a dustpan conveyed it to broad-mouthed gold pans close at hand, and these were carried into the kitchen. Here the pans were placed upon the iron range, big mush spoons were utilized for stirring, and the precious metal was well dried before being weighed. As soon as possible afterward it was taken to the Bank of Nome. A tall, black horse was purchased for this purpose alone, and after a few such trips the intelligent creature most reluctantly approached the office where the gold was kept, having learned of the grievous burden he would have to bear. Sometimes he would snort, throw himself and pull back, and in every way show his unwillingness to proceed. But no shirk was allowed here. The horse was led close to the steps of the office tent, and a gunny sack tied in the middle brought out by two men and laid over the back of the unwilling beast. A rain coat or blanket was flung over the sack, and the man at the halter started for town, leading the horse, which walked slowly and resignedly after being compelled to go. A second man, well armed with revolvers like the first, always accompanied the pair, and when the three had returned to the claim another cleanup awaited them. Enormous sums of money were taken from this claim while we were there, averaging ten thousand to twenty thousand dollars per day. Seventy men worked for a time when the water was at its best, part of that number on the day force and part at night. In August the west bank of the creek was accidentally pricked and found to be far richer than the bed of the stream. Nuggets worth many dollars were continually unearthed, the largest one that summer amounting to ninety dollars. The richest pans contained sixty-four dollars, seventy-two dollars and seventy-five cents and eighty-four dollars, with others ranging all the way below. From a bench claim next to Number Eleven on this creek, and only one-fourth of a mile above us, great heaps of gold were taken from the ground, no pan carrying less, it was said, than five hundred dollars. From seventy men to wait upon when the stream was at high water mark, to twenty-five when it was lower, at any time our lot was hard. We worked with chapped, bleeding hands and aching backs. We worked until our tired limbs sometimes refused to carry us further. By the middle of August the nights began to grow dark at nine o'clock, and a hold-up or two took place on the creek. The weather was rainy and cold, with frosty nights between, and as we were all in tents, and these sometimes leaked, which did not improve the head cook's temper and he grew almost abusive; we retired, went to town, and left him alone to meditate. Here he hastily and angrily for a few days longer tossed up nondescript messes for the men, which none could eat, and was then discharged in disgrace. In all there were fifteen placer claims staked on Anvil. Some of these were scarcely touched that summer, but from those operated fully two million five hundred thousand dollars were taken in three months. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/151t.jpg" width-obs="400" height-obs="230" alt="" title="" /> CLAIM NUMBER NINE, ANVIL CREEK.</div> During the six weeks we had spent at Number Nine, many improvements had been made along the route and in Nome. Where before we had traveled seven miles we now walked only two, riding on the new narrow gauge railroad, spoken of there as Mr. Lane's, the remainder of the way. At Discovery Claim, instead of a few straggling tents, there were eating houses, saloons, store-houses, a ticket and post-office, and the nucleus of a town. The cars we boarded were open, flat cars, with seats along the sides, to be sure, but they were crowded at one dollar per head to Nome. After waiting a little time for a start, the whistle blew shrilly, the conductor shouted "all aboard!" and we trundled along behind a smoky, sturdy engine in almost civilized style. This was the first railroad in Alaska with the exception of the White Pass and Yukon road, and will eventually extend to the southern coast and Iliamna. Next morning, after spending the night on the Sandspit with madam, I called, bright and early, upon my Swedish friends in their restaurant. "Good morning, Mrs. Sullivan!" cried Mary in a hearty voice, as she stirred the steaming mush on the kitchen range. "Good morning!" said Ricka more quietly, but with a pleasant, welcoming smile. "Did you come from Number Nine?" "Good morning!" from Alma, as she poured a cup of hot coffee for a waiting customer. "Do you want to help us? We have plenty of work." "That's what I came for," said I, laying aside my hat and coat. "Will you lend me an apron till I get mine?" glancing toward the kitchen sink full of unwashed dishes, and the cupboard shelves quite demoralized. "I'll lend you six if you will only help us. We are so busy serving meals we cannot take time to get settled," said Mary. "Yes, we moved from the tent last week," she said in reply to my question. "We like this much better. The tent leaked during the hard rains, and flapped so much in the wind that we were afraid it would come down upon our heads. We have had this kitchen built on, and shall keep open till the last boats are gone for the winter. That will be two months longer, likely," and Mary talked on as she dished up the griddle cakes and the two others waited upon the tables. I felt quite happy to have found work so soon, and that too among friends, and without any particular responsibility attached to the position. I would dignify my labor, doing it well and acceptably, carrying always a sunny face and pleasing mood. The work was of a kind despised by hundreds of women, who, after landing at Nome, had not found agreeable and genteel situations, and so had gone back home, or, in some cases, done even worse. To be sure, the pay was not large, the work tiresome, and I would be snubbed by many persons, but I had not come to Alaska for my health. That was excellent. Then I had good food in sufficient quantities, which was always a thing to be considered in that country. I had a purpose in view which I never lost. I would get some gold claims. The Swedish people were brave and fearless, as well as patient and strong. I had many acquaintances among them already. I felt they were good people to stay with, and they were congenial. To be sure, a few spoke English with an accent, and there were no small, white hands among them; but if the hearts and lives were clean and true, and so far as I could judge they were so, I was satisfied. The missionaries from Golovin, including the young lady who had come up on the "St. Paul," had, with my three friends here, called at Number Nine at different times during the six weeks of our stay there. Already a plan had been considerably discussed which would take a party of us to Golovin to winter, either in the Swedish mission or near it, and of all things in mind so far this prospect most pleased me. We would then be fifty miles from the rich Council City mines on the Fish River Creeks, and only half that distance from the Topkok diggings, of which we now heard considerable. Every creek within many miles around Nome was entirely staked, but in the vicinity of Golovin we might hope to secure claims, or, at least, be in a good position to learn of new gold strikes if any were made during the coming winter. "But we will keep a roadhouse if we go there," said Alma, "and be making some money. I am sure there will be many people traveling through Golovin all winter, and we can make a few dollars that way as well as any one else. Then we will not forget how to cook," and the young woman, with eyes always open to the main chance for "making money," as she called it, laughed at the bare possibility of such a thing. "We might do that and help in the mission, too, there are so many of us. I would like to work in the mission for a change, I think," said Ricka, who was very religiously inclined and quiet generally. "What would you like to do, Mrs. Sullivan?" asked Mary. "You say so little, and we talk so much. I want to know what you think." "Well, there are three of you to talk, and I am only one," said I, laughing, as I placed the cups and saucers, all clean and shining, on the cupboard shelves. "I should like the mission plan better than anything, for I have had some experience in mission work; but if they do not need us there, then I should like the roadhouse well enough, though I think if eight or ten of us, each having enough supplies for himself for the winter, should form a club and live under one roof, we could do so more cheaply and comfortably than any other way, and have a real jolly, good time in the bargain. These young men, many of them, are intending to winter here somewhere, and all hate to cook for themselves, I know, while they would gladly get the wood, water, and shovel snow, if we did the cooking and housework. None need to work hard, and if a rich gold strike were reported, somebody might want to go and do some staking. In that way we might get some gold claims," I reasoned, while all three listened during a lull in the work. "That's what we all came to Alaska for—gold claims. I want three," remarked Alma with complacency, "and besides, there is plenty of driftwood at Golovin on the beach which we could have for nothing, and save buying coal at three dollars a sack as we do here," glancing at the scuttle near the range reproachfully, as if the poor, inanimate thing was to blame for prices. Little Alma was keen at a bargain. There was nothing slow about the grey matter in her cranium. If there was buying to do, or a commodity to sell, Alma was the one of the restaurant firm to do it, enjoying well the bargaining, where she was seldom outwitted. So in the intervals between meals, or at night when the day's work was done, we discussed our plans outside the kitchen door next the sea beach, watching the shipping in the roadstead, admiring the lovely sky tints left by the setting sun, or gazing at the softly rolling breakers under a silver-bowed moon. If we had plenty of hard work, with its not altogether desirable phases, we also enjoyed much beside the novelty. Some one we knew was always in from the creeks, principally Anvil, to bring latest news, as well as to collect the same, and the kitchen as well as the dining-room, was the constant rendezvous of friends of one or all of us. Those prospecting among the hills or on the beach at some distance from town came in often for supplies and to visit the post-office, giving the "Star" a call for hot coffee, if not a supper, before leaving. Jokes and stories flew about over the tables, and interesting incidents were always occurring. Good humor and good cheer flowed on every side along with the cordial greeting, and tea and coffee, though nothing stronger in the way of drinks was ever placed upon the tables. In the kitchen we did not lack voluntary assistants when work pushed, or there was what we called "a rush." One young man would fill the water buckets at a neighboring hydrant, another would bring in coal, and some other would carry away refuse. Happy, indeed, were the great numbers of dogs fed from the "Star" kitchen. No beggar was ever turned away. No homeless and discouraged soul, whether man or woman, sober or drunken, was allowed to leave as forlorn as he entered. Men often sat down at the tables, who, when filled with good food and hot drink, in a warm and comfortable room fell asleep from the effects of previous stimulants and sank to the floor. When this happened some strong and helpful arm assisted such a one with friendly advice, to the street. The two sisters were now our nearest neighbors, the third and married one having gone with her husband to live in a new cottage of their own in another part of the town. The eldest of the two had kindly offered me lodging in the back part of their store building of which our restaurant rooms were a half, and from which we were only separated by a board partition. This was a temporary arrangement until I could find something that suited me close at hand, as I chose to be near my work on account of going to my room in the evening after my duties were done. The sisters themselves still lived in their large warehouse a few feet back from the store, and between it and the surf which rolled ceaselessly upon the sands. I was now more comfortably lodged than since I had landed at Nome. My canvas cot, placed in the back of the store, vacant except for a few rolls of carpeting, matting and oil cloth on sale by the sisters, stood not far from the large coal heater in which fire was kept during the day, making the room warm and dry when I came in at night. Near the foot of my cot a good window admitted light and sunshine, and a door opened upon a flight of six stairs into a tiny square yard before one entered the warehouse, where lived the sisters. This latter building was made of corrugated iron, on piles, with windows and a door in the south end looking directly out upon the water only a few feet away, and was fitted cosily enough for the summer, but not intended for anything further except storage purposes. A second door in the north end, opposite the one in the store, and only separated from it by the little yard was the door generally used. At this time lodgings without fire were worth dollars a night in crowded Nome, and one's next neighbors might prove themselves anything but desirable. Meanwhile we worked steadily. Many of the Anvil Creek mine owners and their men took meals at the "Star" whenever in town. Some of their office employees came regularly. Hundreds were "going outside" on boats, and all was bustle and excitement. At least twenty-five thousand people had landed at Nome during the summer, and fully one-half of them had gone home discouraged. On Sunday, September second, there came up a most terrible storm, which, for the velocity of its gales, tremendous downfall of rain, terrific surf, accompanied by great loss of life, as well as length of duration, had not been equalled for over twenty years. Never before was the property loss so great on the Behring Sea coast. By nine o'clock Sunday morning the large steamers at anchor had put far out to sea for safety. The wind rose, the rain poured. The surf was growing more rough. At dinner time those who came in reported the dead bodies of nine men picked up on the beach. They had attempted to land from a steamer, and their small boat was swamped. One of the men drowned was the mate of the vessel. For days the storm lasted and our work increased. It was not long before the continuous rain had penetrated our little kitchen roof and walls, roughly built as they were of boards, and from that on we worked in rubber boots and short skirts tucked still higher. With the storm at its hardest, I donned a regular "sou'wester," or water proof hat, rather than stand with the rain dripping upon my head, and a cape of the same material covered my shoulders. People living in tents when the storm began—and there were thousands—had been washed out, or been obliged to leave them, and could not get their own meals. The "Star" swarmed with hundreds who had never been there before, as well as those in the habit of coming. Ten days passed. Sometimes there would be a lull in the storm for a few hours and we hoped it was over, but the surf ran high and could not return before the wind again lashed it into fury. One midnight, when I was sleeping soundly after an unusually hard day's duties in the kitchen, there came a hasty knock at my door. "Let me in quick Mrs. Sullivan, the warehouse, we fear, is going. We must come in here. We will bring some more of our things," and little sister dropped the armful of clothing she carried and ran back for more. Sure enough, as I looked, the water surged up under the warehouse to the foot of the steps. When she returned with another load I offered to dress and assist them, but she said they would only bring the clothing and bedding, and I better go back to bed. Breathlessly the sisters worked for a time, until the tide prevented them from again entering the warehouse, and they made their bed near me on the floor. When, after watching the waters, they felt satisfied that they receded, they retired, weary and troubled, hoping that before another high tide the storm would have subsided and the danger would be past. By September twelfth the surf was the worst we had ever seen it, and Snake River had overflowed its banks. Most of those on the Sandspit were obliged to flee for their lives. Hundreds were homeless on the streets. The town's whole water-front was washed away. Tents not only went down by hundreds, but buildings of every description were swept away and flung by the angry surf high up on the sands. Anchored lighters and barges were loosened from their moorings and came ashore, as did schooners broken and disabled. Dead bodies were each day picked up on the beach, which was strewn with wreckage. One dark night, when the rain had ceased for a time to give place to a fearful gale which tossed the maddened waters higher and higher, there appeared upon the horizon a dim, portentous shape. At first it was only a form, indistinct and uncertain. As we watched longer, it gradually assumed the semblance of a ship. Keen eyes soon discerned a huge, black hulk, of monstrous size when riding the crest of the breakers, smaller and partially lost to sight when buried at intervals in the trough of the sea. A ship was drifting helplessly, entirely at the mercy of the elements, and must soon be cast upon the beach at our feet. Approaching swiftly as she was, in the heavy sea, as the violence of the wind bore her onward, lights appeared as signals of distress, telling of souls on board in fearful danger. In dismay we watched the helpless, on-coming vessel. We were in direct line of her path as she was now drifting. If by chance the mountain of water should, by an awful upheaval, rear the wreck upon its crest at landing, we would be engulfed in a moment of time. No power could save the buildings which would be instantly shivered to heaps of floating debris. Should we flee for our lives? Or would the wind, quickly, by some miracle, change its course, and thereby send the menacing vessel to one side of us or the other? Groups of patrolmen and soldiers everywhere watched with anxious eyes, and friends stood with us to encourage and assist if needed. God alone could avert the awful, impending disaster. He could do so, and did. When only a few hundred feet from shore, the huge black mass, rearing and tossing like a thing of life in the raging sea, swerved to the west by a sudden veer of the wind, and then, amid the roar of breakers angry to ferocity, she, with a boom as of cannon in battle, plunged into the sands of the beach only a hundred and fifty feet away. The earth trembled. With one long, quivering motion, like some dumb brute in its death struggle, the ship settled, its great timbers parting as it did so, and the floods pouring clean over its decks. Then began the work of rescuing those on board, which was finally, after many hours, successfully accomplished. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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